


The Things We Say and The Ones We Don’t

by themoonandotherslikeit



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Angst, Apocalypse, Dark, F/M, Gore, Love, Zombie, otp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-12-07 17:42:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18238166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themoonandotherslikeit/pseuds/themoonandotherslikeit
Summary: In an alternate universe when the world has all but ended, Jo and Dean await Sams arrival back from a mission away in an old RV.





	The Things We Say and The Ones We Don’t

Jo woke with a start. Dean slept with his head on her stomach, and his body between her legs. They both still wore their boots. She reached down and rubbed a smudge of dirt off of his nose. She blinked a few times, and searched her surroundings, forgetting, just for a second, where they were.

 

The inside of the RV smelled musty, like it’d be closed up for years. It probably had. The air was thick, but she didn’t dare open a window. She couldn’t let in what was outside, not while he was at peace.

 

Dean never slept anymore. It was all too hard. He was too strong. It was all on his shoulders, even more than it used to be. He still wasn’t hers, not really. He never would be. Sams words to her still rang in her ears.

 

_“He thinks of you like a little sister. He wants to protect you, sure, but he will never want you like that.”_

 

He didn’t mean to be cruel, but he was.

 

She wanted to move, to shift her weight, because the gun on her hip was digging into her skin. She knew she’d have a bruise. What’s another bruise against her tattered skin?

 

Growing up, her mother always told her that monsters were people. The bullies in her school, the men who expected too much, the butt of a gun. _“There’s nothin in your closet, Jo. There’s nothin to be afraid of here. Go back to bed.”_  

 

She was wrong. It took almost two decades to prove to her that the monsters Jo was afraid of were real. She just couldn’t have imagined that they would be this way. She couldn’t have imagined that there were monsters that you could shoot that would just keep coming. She couldn’t imagine that nightmares would continue even when she was awake.

 

The only thing that made it a little better was him. The freckles on his cheeks. The way he slept with his mouth slightly open. The scruff on his chin, even though he had no good excuse to shave, he always did. He had aged a decade since it had all started. Wrinkles on his forehead and around his eyes. He wasn’t a young man anymore, but he looked even older than he was.

 

His muscles were tense, and his fingers were still wrapped around his firearm, like always. He was ready to strike at all times. Jo was convinced he was the reason they were alive. She couldn’t thank him enough for it, but no matter what she said he seemed so distant. He wasn’t really there, especially now.

 

He grunted and opened an eye. “Why’d you let me sleep?”

 

“Because if you don’t sleep you’ll die.” Jo said, looking down at him. He had bags under his eyes, she could tell even in the morning twilight. “You’re no good to me dead.”

 

Dean grunted and sat up. “Just don’t like letting my guard down.”

 

“I’ve been with you for five years, Winchester. I think I know what you’re like. You don’t have to explain”

 

He smiled a bit. “Maybe you can hold up the fort after all.”

 

“Nice if you to notice.” She smiled back at him.

 

“You heard from Sammy?”

 

“No.” Jo said slowly, with caution. He wasn’t looking at her face. He was checking the rounds in his gun. “He’s probably still on the supply run.”

 

“Yeah, of course.”

 

He was worried. He was always worried. Especially when it came to Sam.

 

Jo could hear the sound of the dead. They were more restless during the day. She wondered if it was the sun. The heat on their rotting flesh. Or if they remembered, in the daylight, all that they’ve lost. Perhaps that’s why they moved faster. Yowled louder.

 

Eventually they would all be like the dead. Aimless. Eventually they’d all die, and even then they would never stop. They’d never stop moving, but they would never have anywhere to go.

 

Jo knew that the moment Dean found out that she would lose him forever. She wasn’t ready for that. How could she ever be?

 

“Dean?”

 

“Huh?”

 

“What if the world was different?”

 

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

 

“Like... not this way. Sometimes I think about if it never happened. The disease. The death. I think about if the Roadhouse hadn’t burned down. I think about if my mom was still here. It’s just us, you know? Even then, most of the time I feel alone.”

 

Dean turned toward her. “You’re not alone, Jo. Yeah, this world sucks. It fucking sucks. All we do is fight. We fight to live. We fight for everything. We never stop.”

 

“It’s all never going to end.”

 

“It’s gonna end. It’s gonna end bloody. I always knew that. All we can do is fight for every breath. Me, you, and Sammy.” He reaches for Jos hand, squeezing it. “We’re family, and that’s what family does. We don’t give up. No matter what.”

 

Jo forced a smile. _That’s what I’m worried about._ “You’re right.” She stood up. “I’m gonna go get some fresh air.” She reached out and touched his cheek. “I’ll be back soon.”

 

“Be careful.” Dean said, watching her walk out of the RV. She latched the door behind her, her gun slung over her shoulder.

 

The door shut behind her and she walked. The leaves, and sticks crunched under her feet as she forced herself forward. She couldn’t hide it anymore. She went to the river and crouched. She dipped her hands in, splashing her face.

 

The sight of herself in the water was too much. She didn’t recognize the dirty blonde in front of her. Her own face had aged. She had a scar across her cheek. She wore no makeup. Her hair was dirty. She was crying.

 

Jo stood up and crossed the river, her boots and pants got soaked. She had to make it. It was time. There was no more delaying it.

 

She looked up at the sound of a twig cracking across from her. “Hi Sam. I can’t let you stay out here anymore. As much as I want you around... it can’t be like this.” Jo said, gripping the strap from her rifle.

 

Sam tilted his head to the side knowingly. He didn’t have to say anything.

 

“You can’t be here anymore. I don’t know what I’ll tell Dean. It’s just too fucking wrong. He will never be the same. This will break him, but I can’t keep putting off the inevitable. The truth is, you’ve been gone for awhile. No amount of stalling will change that.”

 

Sam moved toward her, tugging on the chains around his wrists. They were raw from tugging and pulling. Bloody drool rolled down his chin. He snapped at her, biting a bit. The open wound on his neck from his bite was oozing and covered in blood. He smelled like death. Flies danced around his open wound, but in his dead, empty gaze he didn’t seem to mind.

 

His hair was grimy from lack of washes, and blood. He still towered over her by a lot. If it were in any other circumstance Jo would’ve been proud that she could subdue Sam, but there was no pride in this.

 

She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. She moved her gun to her shoulder. “I’m sorry, Sam.”

 

He tugged a little harder. Maybe he knew it was the end. She glanced down to take off the safety.

 

In the second it took to release it, Sam broke through. His gray skin hung over, limply, his pearl white bones showing through his rotting flesh. He stumbled forward, unbelievably fast. She pulled up the gun to see him a foot away from her. She screamed out, and pulled the trigger sending a buck shot through his chest.

 

Sam stumbled back groaning loudly before lunging forward again, going straight for her throat. She was caught off guard, and his clammy, rotting hands connecting with her chest sending her falling backwards.

 

He was on top of Jo. She could feel the bloody drool drip down his chin onto her cheek, her neck, as he snapped at her like a turtle. Her gun was just out of her reach, and she kept Sam at an uncomfortably close distance with her arms, her palms against his chest. “Sam stop!” She cried, knowing it wasn’t him. She shouted even though she knew he wouldn’t understand, even though she knew it was over.

 

She kicked him away, and turned to crawl for the gun, but his bony, rotten hand grabbed her ankle and pulled her toward him. Her fingers dig into the mud, the grass, her nails scraping at anything, anything that could save her.

 

She felt the wetness of blood, and drool through her jeans. She felt the wetness before the pain. Before the sting, the ripping of her flesh, his teeth through the fabric and meat of her leg. She cried out, as the poison, the disease, coursed through her veins. It was over.

 

A shot rang out through the air, and she felt a heavy weight against her lower half. She opened her eyes, the world spinning in front of her. When it stopped twirling, her eyes landed on a familiar pair of brown boots.

 

Dean squatted down in front of her, his head tilted to the side. “He’s been dead this whole time.”

 

It wasn’t a question.

 

He reached down and held her chin, making her look at him. “You should’ve told me.”

 

“I know.” She whispered, as he pressed the barrel of his gun between her eyes.

 

She could see the light disappear from his smokey green eyes. The man she’d known was gone. He died there with Sam.

 

He pressed his lips together. “Shouldn’t have lied, Jo. It could’ve all been different.” He whispered, as he pressed on the trigger. With an echoing, deafening shot her head fell face first into the mud, her eyes still open, watching, and waiting for the words he would never say to her.

 

 


End file.
